Sianni McWashington-Maddox
I woke up to Kyrie’s arms wrapped around me and frowned. I didn’t even remember coming to bed last night. The last thing I remembered was us curled up on the couch, watching TV after our little talk. After that? I was drawing a blank.
Slowly sitting up, I heard Kyrie groan before his eyes cracked open.
“Where the hell you going?” he asked, looking at me.
“I’m finna go use the bathroom.”
A part of me wanted to laugh, but I held it in. No matter what time I got up, this man always acted like I was trying to sneak away.
“Mmhm.” He squinted at me. “You coming back to bed?”
“Nope. I’m going in the art room.”
He didn’t say anything else. He just nodded and rolled over.
Shaking my head, I grabbed my phone and headed to the bathroom. Once I used it, washed my hands, and cleaned my face, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen.
The first thing on my mind was coffee. I needed my daily dose. I didn’t know what it was about coffee, but it always gave me the little boost I needed to start my day. Then, on top of that, Kyrie had gone and bought me a cappuccino machine, which only made my addiction worse.
After fixing my cup, I headed back upstairs to my art room.
The second I stepped inside, my eyes landed on the blank canvas covering the easel. An idea had been floating around in my head since yesterday, and I wanted to get it out before I lost it.
Setting my cup down, I grabbed my pencil and stared at the canvas for a second.
Lately, the only thing I’d really been interested in painting was Kyrie. And honestly, I wasn’t even surprised anymore.
As I worked on the painting, my phone started ringing. I reached over, grabbed it, and smiled when I saw Drayla’s name flash across the screen. Sliding my finger across the answer button, I placed the call on speaker and set my phone beside me.
“Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?” Drayla asked as soon as the call connected.
“I’m good.”
“Bet. How’s Kyrie doing? Is his crazy ass alright?” she asked with a laugh.
A smile pulled at my lips.
“Yeah, he’s good. We chilled for a little while last night, and then we ended up going to sleep.”
“Bet.”
“Yeah.”
I couldn’t even lie; I was glad Drayla had come into my life. She was cool as hell. I could talk to her about everything without her stressing me out or bringing a bunch of unnecessary drama my way.
“So, what you doing right now?” she asked, changing the subject.
I glanced down at the canvas in front of me.
“Working on a painting.”
“Let me guess.” She laughed. “It’s Kyrie.”
A laugh slipped out of me.
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Because I know you.” She chuckled. “That man got you wide the fuck open.”
“Oh, whatever.”
“What? I’m telling the truth.”
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me.
“I guess.”
“Mmhm.”
Ignoring her, I dipped my brush into the paint and dragged it across the canvas.
“But I finally got a chance to talk to him about the girls’ trip.”
That got her attention immediately.
“Bet. What’d he say?”
I already knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“He said I should go.”
“And?”
I sighed.
“And I gotta take security.”
Drayla went quiet for a second.
“Of course he said that.”
“Exactly.”
I set my brush down and leaned back in my chair.
A part of me was still hung up on the security thing. It felt like it would take all the fun out of the trip. Then again, after everything that happened, I couldn't really blame Kyrie for feeling the way he did.
He wasn't trying to control me. He was trying to protect me.
And as much as I hated admitting it, there was a difference.
“So, are you still trying to go?”
“Yeah. Of course. I need to get out of this house.” I shook my head. “Hell, I need a break, period.”
Between the paparazzi, Jamal being out, and Kyrie constantly looking over his shoulder, it felt like I couldn't breathe sometimes.
“Alright. Where you trying to go?”
“I don't even know, girl. Somewhere far as hell away from here.”
That earned a laugh out of her.
“Aight. What about Palmora Shores?”
I paused.
“Where is that?”
“It ain't far from the Cayman Islands.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “That actually sounds nice.”
“Bet. I'ma go ahead and book our shit, and I'll let you know what I find.”
“Aight.”
A few minutes later, we hung up, and I went back to painting.
I was so focused on the canvas in front of me that I didn't hear Kyrie come into the room.
The next thing I knew, his arms were wrapped around my waist, and his face disappeared into the side of my neck.
“Wassup, beautiful?” he asked.
A smile immediately pulled at my lips.
“Nothing. Just felt like painting.”
“I see.” He glanced at the canvas. “You done drew Big Daddy again.”
I laughed and shook my head.
This man was a mess.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “I just got off the phone with Drayla, and we figured out where we're going.”
“Bet. Where y'all going?”
“Palmora Shores.”
“Hmm.”
I turned around and looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged. “It's nice out there.”
“You've been?”
“Yeah. A couple times.”
“Oh.”
He nodded before looking back at me. “You still taking security though, right?”
I closed my eyes. “Jesus Christ, Kyrie.”
“What?”
“Yes. I'm taking security.”
“Good.”
I sucked my teeth while he grinned.
“See? This why I can't tell you nothing.”
“Whatever.” He laughed. “When y'all supposed to leave?”
“Drayla said she’s gonna book everything and get back to me.”
“Cool.”
I nodded before turning back toward the canvas.
A few minutes later, I finished the last stroke and stepped back to look at it.
When I glanced over my shoulder, Kyrie was stretched out on the couch in the corner of my art room, watching me.
“Do you have rehab today?” I asked.
“Nawl.” He shook his head. “Thank God. I'm off today.”
A laugh escaped me.
“Bet.”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “’Cause I was getting sick of that shit.”
I laughed and turned back toward the painting.
“Come here.”
Kyrie lifted an eyebrow. “For what?”
“Just come here.”
Letting out a dramatic sigh, he pushed himself off the couch and made his way over to me.
The second he stopped beside me, I pointed at the canvas.
“What you think?”
He stared at it for a few seconds before tilting his head. “Why my beard look like that?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“My beard.”
“It looks fine.”
“Nawl.”
I looked from him to the painting and back again.
“Kyrie, that's literally your face.”
“No, it ain't.”
A laugh slipped out of me.
“Yes, it is.”
He stepped closer to the canvas.
“See. Right there.”
I squinted.
“Right where?”
“Right there.”
“You pointing at nothing.”
“’Cause you know what I'm talking about.”
I shook my head.
“Boy, if you don't get out my face.”
“Nawl. Fix it.”
“There is nothing to fix.”
“Yes, it is.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You are so damn annoying.”
“That's crazy coming from somebody who keeps painting me.”
That shut me up.
A smug grin spread across his face.
“Exactly.”
I sucked my teeth while he laughed.
“See? You obsessed with me.”
“Boy, please.”
“It's cool. I get it.”
“Kyrie.”
“What?”
“You got five seconds to get away from my painting.”
Kyrie folded his arms across his chest.
“Or what?”
“Or I'ma stop painting you.”
He looked at me like I'd personally offended him.
“You wouldn't dare.”
A laugh slipped out of me.
“Watch me.”
“Nawl.” He shook his head. “You love painting me too much.”
“Boy, bye.”
“I'm serious.” He pointed to the canvas. “Matter of fact, I think this one might be your best work yet.”
I blinked.
“You was just complaining about your beard.”
“’Cause it looked crazy.”
“You are impossible.”
“And handsome.”
I rolled my eyes.
“See? There you go again.”
“What?”
“Being in love with me.”
This time I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped.
“Please get out of my face.”
His grin only widened.
“Make me.”
Before I could come up with a comeback, Kyrie glanced around the room and let out a sigh.
“Man.”
“What now?”
“I'm bored as hell.”
I laughed. “You've been off rehab for five minutes.”
“Exactly. That's five minutes too long.”
“Kyrie.”
“I'm serious.”
He dropped onto the couch again and threw his head back dramatically.
“I can't sit in this house all day.”
“Then go do something.”
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “I don't know. You're the one complaining.”
For a second, he just sat there, staring at me.
Then, a slow grin spread across his face.
The same grin that usually meant he was about to get on my nerves.
“Nope.”
I frowned.
“Nope, what?”
“We getting out the house.”
I pointed at the canvas.
“I was painting.”
“You finished.”
“How you know?”
“’Cause you've been standing there staring at it for the last ten minutes.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
Because annoyingly enough, he was right.
“See?” He pointed at me. “Get dressed.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“You always trying to boss somebody around.”
“And you always got something to say.”
“Because you hardheaded.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved me off. “Go put some clothes on, ma.”
“Where are we going?”
His grin widened.
“You ask too many damn questions.”
I sucked my teeth.
“And you don’t answer enough of them.”
Kyrie laughed before pushing himself off the couch.
“See? That's your problem right there.”
“What?”
“You don't know how to just go with the flow.”
I stared at him.
“That’s rich coming from the same man who needed to know every detail about a girls’ trip.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“’Cause I'm me.”
A laugh escaped me.
“Your logic makes absolutely no sense.”
“It don't gotta make sense.” He shrugged. “It just gotta be right.”
“According to who?”
“According to Big Daddy.”
I groaned. “Please stop calling yourself that.”
“Nawl.”
“Yes.”
“Nawl.”
I shook my head while trying not to laugh.
This man was ridiculous.
“Go get dressed, Sianni.”
“Why?”
“’Cause we leaving.”
“Where?”
His grin returned.
“Wouldn't you like to know?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Kyrie.”
“What?”
“If you get me out here looking crazy, I'ma be mad.”
“First of all, you could never look crazy.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Second of all,” he continued, stepping closer, “you look good in everything.”
“Boy.”
“I'm serious.”
Before I could say anything else, he leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“Now, go get dressed.”
I stared at him for a second.